


Black swan

by KitrinaFalcone



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Murder, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7732456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitrinaFalcone/pseuds/KitrinaFalcone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are bullied and attacked outside the Iceberg Lounge. Oswald helps you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> *English as second language  
> *Low-esteemed reader X Oswald fluff request from Gotham-after-dark on Tumblr

You try to steady your breathing as you step out of the crowd but the icing cold outside sucks your breath painfully out of your lungs. You cross your naked arms on your chest, trying to warm up yourself, but in vain. The alley is dark, only the purple umbrella neon lights your path. You really should have brought a coat but the afternoon sun was hot enough when you came in. 

You look down, trying to get away as fast as possible, going straight ahead on a decided pace. You feel a stiffling ball growing in your throat. The tears won’t take long to appear. 

“I’m stupid. I’m so stupid…” you mumble between your clanking teeth. 

You can hear some laughter and chatter coming from behind, drawing closer and closer. You shut your eyes, your whole face wincing. “No, no, no…” you repeat like a prayer quickening your pace. 

“Hey! FREAK!! Come back” A female drunken voice calls out to you with despise. “BITCH! I’m talking to you!” 

The girls runs to you, trapping you in a circle. 

“________, don’t you recognise yourself when we call you?” One adds, mockingly. 

“Leave me alone.” You hiss in defence. 

“Leave me alone” The third one mimic. “You can beg better than that, freak.” 

Without a warning, the first one grabs you by the hair and pushes you into the street. Leaving your black dress completely soaked with mud. They laugh at you. Call you names. Hit you. And you take it all in. Feeling the anger rising until you explode. 

“ENOUGH!” you cry, drawing your colt from your purse and aiming at the leader’s head. 

They gasp. For once, you were fighting back. 

“Oh hey, easy. We were just messing with you.” 

“Yes… It was a joke. Just a joke…” 

You stare at them, steam filling up your eyes. They do not deny you actually have the guts to pull the trigger. So they just step back slowly, hands up and run away; vanishing into thin air. 

In the parking lot not far from there, was Butch and Oswald, on their way to the club. They watched the whole scene from their car. Analysing the situation. 

You jump as you hear the car door shut. All your senses in alert because of the adrenaline coursing your body. You aim at the slender silouhette limping his way towards you. As he approaches, his features becomes more visible. You hesitate to lower you gun. The man in front of you put his hands up, smiling slightly. He dosen’t seem to be intimidated by the weapon. You examined him from head to toe; A nice black suit with a cross tie and a rich purple suit vest. Shiny black shoes and an expensive looking walking cane with a penguin carved on the handle. His jet black hair stood like feathers above his head, making him look like a majestuous black swan. 

“Need any help?” He says to you, all smile. 

You can’t help but burst into tears. Slowly and shakingly, you lower your colt. You’re completely damaged, defenseless. At this very moment, you feel like you belong locked up in Arkham, away from society. You sob uncontrolably as he hold out his hand to you and wrap you in his comforting embrace. You know one should never trust a stranger, especially in gotham. But right now, you’re just too helpless to care. 

“There, there… Let’s get inside, shall we?” 

You push back gently, trying to get over yourself. 

“The Iceberg is closed. I came from there.” 

He smiles, brushing your tears off from under your eye with his thumb. 

“I’m the owner darling.” 

You furrow your brow hesitantly. 

“No back thinking, I promise.” He replies to your reaction. One hand over his heat, the other with an open palm in the air. “There’s probably some dry clothes that can fit you and, perhaps, after that, I could have someone drive you home?”

You nod shyly. Why would he take care of you like that? You don’t think you’re exceptionally pretty, especially with the dark make up around your eyes dripping down like a river on your cheeks, your (h/c) hair wild and lose from your former updo. Not to mention the muddy rag you’re wearing. 

“Here, you’re freezing.” He says. 

Your rescuer give you his black suit jacket and stretches out his arm to you, to help you walk in your heals, despite his claudication. Your heart starts to race a bit, but you extenguish this sudden flame right away, leaving only this cold usual darkness inside of you. ‘Why me?’ you keep wondering, keeping your head low and staring at the sidewalk. 

Oswald caught your grim expression filled with sorrow and draw you closer to him. You exhale slowly with relief as you can feel his warmth through the fabric. 

You would think the Iceberg Lounge would be colder, but you found yourself truly blessed that the temperature was milder inside.  
“Butch, hmm..” He sets his crystal green eyes on you. “What’s your name?” 

“________” You reply, looking straight into his bewitching glance. 

The corner of his lips curls into a sweet smile. “_________” he repeats softly, whispering almost. “Butch, lead Miss ________ to the office’s bathroom so she can take a warm shower. Ask the lead dancer to find her some proper dry clothes. I want the staff back to work; I want drinks, warm meals and the musicians back on stage.” 

You coudn’t believe your luck. The owner, opening the club just for YOU. You furrowed your brow again in disbelief, though you were touched by so much care. 

Butch nods. “This way, Miss.” 

***

The burning sensation of the water on your skin made you moan as you curled up into a fetal position on the ground, letting the almost intolerable flaming rain cascade down your back. You wanted the sound of the shower to muffle your cries. You stayed there a few minutes, before taking the soap bar and frenetically rubbing it against your fragile body, as if you wanted to wash away all the pain and the guilt. You rubbed and rubbed until it hurted and continued to scratch out your torment with your nails, conviced you would make it. 

But you never make it. 

You step out of the shower, looking at yourself in the mirror. Naked. Your hair is wet and down. Your face is now free of makeup, red around the eyes, the nose and the cheeks. You tried to smile, pushing a strand of hair behind your ears. Trying to figure out if you were pretty or not. You never felt so naked before. Not only physically. Your core was cracked open, at the mercy of the ambiant air. 

You put on the clothes that as been placed on the counter beside you; a short classy floral dress with a nice thin white belt and a white bolero jacket. You put your black high heels back on. Take a deep breath. And show yourself back to the main room. 

***

There he was, sitting at Fish Mooney’s former table. The Penguin welcomed you with the same warm smile than earlier. He didn’t care less about your ruined appearance when he found you in the street. To him you seemed… Particular. No matter what, you were beautiful. He could sense in you, from the first glance, that you were somehow like him. Or at least, what he used to be. An outcast. Misunderstood. Yet, also a fighter. Someone who only needs a little push before taking over the City. How were you pretty now in that dress, showing off your legs and the (e/c) colour of your eyes, stripped off any synthetic artifice. Displaying for him your natural breathtaking beauty. His lips parted slightly as you stoped in front of him. He took your hand, planting a soft kiss on it’s back. You blushed.

You both take a seat at the table were some expensive italian wine were waiting for you, as well as smoked salmon on a nape of freash salad. You inhaled the delicious scent. It made you remember how hungry you were. 

The stage was lit with soft blue lights. You closed your eyes to enjoy the melody. You recognised Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. You rocked your head gently to the rythm, letting every note, every keys hit your soul like if you were the cords of the piano itself. The melancoly danced with your being, fitting you perfectly. 

Oswald looked at you silently. To him, you were the shine of the moon in the darkest night. A little bit of fresh air in this doom and depraved city. His city. 

You opened you eyes, staring at each other. No words were needed. It was refreshing, in a time and place where people hear without listening, talk without speaking… Somehow, you felt a true understanding. Though you coudn’t explain it.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is gonna be a part 3. Gore and smut ahead. In the meantime, enjoy!

Oswald was looking at you. How gorgeous you were in that dress, your hair still wet from the shower. He contemplated the progress of the small drop slowly sliding down from behind your ear. Imagining his lips leaving kisses against the warm pulse of your neck. How he would love to softly bite you where it left humid stardust shining under the subdue blue spotlights of the stage. Would you moan as he would leave his fiery marks on your flesh? Would you shiver as he would cups the tenderness of your breast in his trembling hands? 

No. You would never give yourself to him, would you? 

No one ever found a liking in him, to the slightest. Even as a young man, he'd been mocked and rejected everytime he would woe a girl not even half as beautiful as you. He learned to focus on what really mattered. He worked his path to be someone. And there was little to no place for love of the romantic kind in his heart. His mother became all that mattered. But sometimes, when he tried to clear his mind of all the crimes and schemes, in the comfort of his own bed, sometimes... He felt this gap in his heart, as if it needed to be filled. 

The drop disapeared down your lingerie. Your chest was lifting at a regular pace. It seemed relax, yet, Oswald's eyes went back to yours. You were staring down, another drop flowing down your cheek. Your body might stand still, but your eyes never lies. There was a dreadful thunderstorm inside, the most violent and unstable tempest Gotham as ever seen. And you kept it all in. Drowning yourself in dark water. You built up your own flood barrier throughout the years, but in this night, it brimmed over and poured on his thumb. 

The crime lord winced as he knelt next to you, one hand on your feverish cheek. You did not realize he sent everyone away. You and him were all that existed. You. Him. And your pain. 

''Why do you cry, little bird?'' He whispered. 

Your lips were shaking. You knew you coudn't hold it any longer. You knew you would be the cause of all the following damages. How weak you felt. Weak and heavy. You held this burden onto your shoulders for so long, you thought you merged with it. That's it. You were the burden. The whispers in your head grew louder and louder, like a demonic chant on a black mass; 'Weak. Worthless. Freak. Hopeless. Ugly. Deranged. Shameful. Spineless...' 

With a short breath, you swallowed with difficulty. This sensation of choking on your emotions hit you again. The words got stuck in your throat. All you wanted was to scream. But you searched for your air, unable to make a sound, like trapped inside a dream. 

''Do you want me to find those girls, _______? Wouldn't you like to have them punished?'' He adds, now with fire in his eyes. 

''H-How?'' you replied, quivering. 

He smiled tenderly at you and stood up, lifting himself by keeping his balance with the table. 

''You will see.'' He says, proudly. ''You will see.''


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gore and smut, like promised. Hope you guys like it. Leave kuddos and comments!

''Come.'' He says, standing up. ''Come and see.'' 

***

You walk into the gothic baroque styled room. With the red brocade curtains closed, the diffused light of the numerous floor standing candle holders gives a gloomy, yet breathtaking atmosphere. The main luminosity comes from the gigantic carved marble fireplace above which are hanging two antique swords, crossed. The reflection of the hellish flames is dancing upon the polished golden framed macabre paintings on each side and in the oval rococo mirrors on the walls. Not to mention the fine antique furniture standing all around. So much details on every of them, bringing its admirer back to a time when quality won over quantity. A time when art prevailed. In the middle of the room, a massive wood table, on which is also lit some candles. At the end of this table, in front of the fireplace, a wooden throne engraved with medieval patterns, designed for a King.

A tall bald man is standing next to it, all smiles. Setting up some kind of tools upon a velvet cloth. Arm in arm, Oswald leads you closer. You can't help but smirk shyly as you see the sweet innocence on his face, while the flames cast the shadow of three women, tied up, on their knees and neatly aligned in the back of the room. He lifts your soft hand, as if he was leading you to the dancefloor to open the ball, his other arm raised gracefully behind his back. The King of Gotham nods to the assassin, who return the respectful gesture and disappear behind the dual door, which he closes slowly. 

 

Your heart is pounding. But as you thought you would experience guilt or fear, you are pleasantly surprised to be beset by some kind of strange excitement. 

 

Oswald show you the girls proudly with a movement of the hand. 

''My gift to you, my bird.'' He removes the blindfold from the first one. ''Is this what you ordered?'' 

Your eyes become darker. You can feel warmth spreading in your body like liquid fire, relaxing every single tensed muscle. ''Yes, that's the ones.'' You said, coldly. Already the sweet taste of revenge rolling in your mouth at every single word. 

''______ please!'' You feel an adrenaline rush in your veins as you hear her beg for mercy. Your sight wander to the table, where the other part of your present in awaiting. Your fingers are dancing upon the tools, brushing the cold metal slightly. A shiver raises the hair on your arm and leaves warm tingle on the nape of your neck. You take a breath of relief, making yourself ready before enjoying the moment. And then, without a warning, you strike the crowbar right across her face with all your might. Sending blood all over the floor and on her panicked accomplices.

 

''Oh-oh!'' Oswald exclaims, before chuckling softly. He takes place in his thrones and pours himself a glass of wine. Ready for the show. That's what he was looking for. This blaze in your eyes. Unafraid to walk to the coals. He cannot part his gaze from you, the thrill almost taking his breath away. He wanted your pretty little psycho, uncertain if you would unveil so docilely.

Whimpers now fill the room. You step back silently, contemplating the whole scene. You tilt your head sideway, taking the air in and out to calm your delightful inner agitation. You start to rub the length of the crowbar softly with your fingertips and bite your lower lip. You feel like an artist, awaiting for inspiration to strike. 

The King of Gotham stares at you with avid eyes, nearly aroused by the way your hands could be so delicate then firm and merciless. 

You put delicately your weapon on the table. You liked the way the subdue light of the candles danced on her bruised skin. 

‘’How am I gonna paint you up?’’ You say, breaking the melody of laments. 

Oswald smiles. 

You approach the same girl, gripping her by the hair to make her stand up and bring her closer to floor standing candle. Her resistance makes you smile as you push her head near to the flames. So sweet is her screams to your ears. You let her go, and she falls onto the ground, collapsing, half her face burnt real bad. You kick her in the belly and pass on to the next, grabbing a knife from the table by the same occasion. 

You crouch to her level, brushing her black curly hair off her face and tilt her chin up. She gasps for air and stare into your eyes with terror the moment you take the blindfold off. You glide the tip of the knife down her wet cheek and continue petting her hair. 

‘’Please, let me go.’’ She finally finds the courage to say. 

You laugh.

‘’You can beg better than that, freak.’’ You mimic her before stabbing her in the throat frenetically and repeatedly. 

 

Blood splatter on your face. You can taste iron in your mouth, licking the dripping rubies off your lips. You take a deep breath, tilting your head back in ecstasy. 

The third one let out a screech and tries to escape. Somehow, she got rid of her blindfold. Oswald clicks his tongue three times as he waves his index from side to side. 

‘’You go back there, my dear.’’ He gestures the front of the fireplace with the gun he’s pointing at her. ‘’Miss ________ is not done with you yet. How rude of you to leave the party so early.’’ 

She steps back with her hands in the air. You go behind her and set your eyes on that man who offers you what you would ever wish for. He looked so powerful in that throne. Powerful, dark, dangerous and, Oh! So handsome. You can feel your heartbeat pounding down there as your own juice’s wetting your panties. You never let go of his intense gaze while your wrap your hands around her fragile neck. She twitches before fainting. You kneel beside her and choke her some more, until her face turns a beautiful and serene blue.

You are both panting with anticipation. You couldn’t believe how strong you felt. Earlier that night, you wished to die. Thinking there wasn’t a place for you in this world. That your life is and would forever be miserable. And then he appears. And you cannot shake this feeling you have, against your better judgement. A complete stranger, with murderous tendencies. But, God, you wanted him. 

Your heels clanks on your way to him. He lifts his head, both hands resting on the armchairs. You lean towards him. A sudden hesitation hits you. What if he didn’t want you? He reaches for your cheek, caressing it gently. His heart was pounding as fast as yours. He couldn’t keep his lips away from yours any longer. He grips you firmly by the hair and urges you to press your face against his. You moan as his tongue part your lips to gain access inside of your mouth. You wrap your arms behind his neck. You don’t want him to let go.

 

He pulls you closer to him, making you sit on his lap. His hand glide up and down your thigh, getting each time further under your dress until he reaches the wetness between your legs. He smiles. The idea of you having carnal desire for him excited him enormously. His fingers start to rub your throbbing clit through the fabric. You moan some more, high on pleasure. 

How you turned him on, all confident and homicidal. He suddenly has the longing to slowly lick the blood off your face before he abruptly turns you around on his lap, your back against his chest. His hand finds its way under your dress again, caressing your slick folds as he presses harder against you, your ass grinding against him. You relax into him, giving in to the pleasure his fingers give to you. Your head lean back into his left shoulder. He notices more blood dripping down your breast, he removes his hand, you groan in protestation, it makes him grin. He then wipes the blood, massaging your breast and move his hand back under the material to your yearning pearl, using the blood as extra lubrication.

 

The torment of his biting kisses on your neck leaves a sore sensation that makes you shiver with bliss. You run your fingers in his jet black hair, pressing his head harder against yourself. Your breathing becomes more and more uneasy as you feel the intensity rising. You are close already, spreading your thighs wider to welcome his finish touch. 

He can read your body; he knows you are ready to cum for him. His erection inflates painfully against the fabric of his pants, each thrust of your hips making the grinding more intolerable each time. He needs to be inside you. Right now. He removes his hand from your panties. You have a hard time to conceal your frustration. He pulls your hair, so you would look at him in the eyes and mutters softly: 

 

‘’ When the apocalypse does come,

I will rebuild our city with my tongue.

I will suck this world’s ashes from your fingers.

I will refuse to let the fires of this hell

be the only thing that makes us sweat.

 

When the apocalypse comes,

so will we.’’

 

// - “When the Apocalypse Comes” by Sierra DeMulder //

 

He kisses you feverishly, starting to remove your clothes, ripping them off almost. Then grabs your fragile wrist, guiding it down to his belt buckle. Water fills your mouth, you want to taste him, take him in. Give him back the loving attention he granted you with so much care. You execute yourself, removing his belt, then free his strong manhood out of its prison. Rubbing it gently with your hand. This time, it is you who makes him moan into your mouth. He tightens his grip on your hair and press downward slowly. You get off from his lap, now kneeling before your King. The sweet cry when your mouth wraps around his cock. Your tongue circling lightly around its head. You start to suck smoothly and move your head so slowly down to its base, Oswald jumps and grasp the armchair with one hand, the other still pushing your head down.

 

Your cadence hastens, the suction intensifies, you help yourself with your hand at the base of his penis with a movement of up and down that also give you control over his thrust, so it doesn’t activate your gag reflex. You liked his forceful hand over your head, guiding you with the exact speed he wants. You can taste pre cum coming out and he pull you back to release his length. 

‘’I’m not done until you are, my bird’’ 

You are suddenly aware of the muffled cries behind you. The burnt lady is trying to crawl her way out. You sigh with annoyment. Oswald smiles and pet your hair before handing you his colt. 

You stand up, revealing to him all of your nudity and places yourself behind her, aiming for her head with both hands. The detonation is heard and sends chills down your spine. Blood is gushing from the wound. Oswald removes his jacket, unbutton his shirt. His trouser is now lying on the floor. He limps his way towards the girl; the blood is still warm in his hands. Then he gets behind you, pressing your body against his and a knife against your throat. Massaging your breast with the mild fluid. You rest your weight against him, shivering at the coldness of the blade. He allows you to lay down in the middle of the corpses. Blood covering the floor and mingling with your (h/c) hair. 

He takes place above you, sticking the knife in the wooden floor and restraining your arms by grabbing your wrist. At first, he seems uncomfortable, trying to find a way to prevent from hurting his knee. Then you can finally feel him. Strong and fast. Hitting your core exactly at the right places. He merges his lips to yours once again. You lift your hips, eager for more, before he turns you around in haste and take you from behind, lifting your head up so you could still kiss him while he gave all his might and passion. 

You cum first, tightening your walls against his dick. He follows not long after as you both collapse on the ground, spooning. 

You are both panting and he kisses you on the neck. You turn around to stare into his crystal green eyes and you caress his face, brushing the strikes of hair out of the way. He looks back at you with such fondness, it moves you. 

Suddenly all of your fears, all of your doubt fades away. You feel strong, you feel whole. You are his.


End file.
